Bacon and Eggs popped and fizzed against the still mid morning. V was not in the kitchen, though he had only just been. Returning home from delivering Mr. Finch he had headed to the stove to cook for her. But five minutes simmering in his own thoughts had found him lost in some far corner of the gallery. Eyes wrapped around some oddity. Thus when Evey entered the room following the smell of an every day gallery morning she found herself alone in the kitchen, watching the food burn.

She just wanted to know what she had done wrong? Had she?

She really couldn't remember a thing honestly. For all she knew, the entire thing could have never happened at all. And yet she could still feel him. Wholly in her arms, holding her, needing her. That wasn't a dream. That was real. Looking now at the place where he used to be now, she felt herself needing him too. She switched off the stove and moved the pot to the sink before perusing after the man. She wasn't really very hungry anyway.

For the first time in a while in the Shadow Gallery, it was going to be a very long day.

Hammond took a deep breath and knocked on his bedroom door… Nothing..?

"V," she half mumbled. Looking around she examined the room for a trace of him. Smoke lulled vaguely around the ceiling, not a book out of place. Next to the piano sat an empty bottle of champagne, his brother half filled at his side, a few hours stale. V had certainly not waiting long out here. He had to be inside. Calling out a little louder she spoke his name again. There came no answer…

Waiting just around the corner, in the passage to her bedroom he stood. As he moved to indicate himself she spoke and he froze, slipping back behind the stone to listen.

"V, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I haven't been myself recently and I- Its not to say I regret what I did but just… just the way I did it." She took another deep sigh before cooling her tone and saying: "I forced you into doing something, which was wrong of me." V watched her nervously roll her lips. "I just wanted… I just wanted to say that… I guess I had too much to drink. I tend not to be my self when I'm drunk. I took advantage of you."

… "I'm sorry"…

"Please just don't be angry at me" On that note her voice turned sour, sad. Turning away from the door to head back for clean clothes, she found him three feet away. Feet in military stance but his hands loose at his sides.

"There is nothing to be angry over. What I did, I did of my own will." Trying to look into his eyes through the blackness to find the truth in his words, she settled for his solid eye contact.

"Alright," She said.

"I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly," He said advancing a step.

"There's nothing to be sorry over," she returned. After a breath she turned to head to her room, just before meeting the hall, she heard him call.

"Thank you." he said.

"For what?"

"For a very happy Christmas." A small smile crossed her face before she disappeared behind the stone.

Off in the night, someone was working.

David Rackley, unlike many of the Dramatis Personae you (reader) have been introduced to since our beginning, was NOT a supporter of the Norse fire party. In fact quite the opposite. As a hard working man, laying bricks had been made hell in the past 10 years.

There was no mercy for the lower class in that world. Though this was not made better by the revolution necessarily, now there was no mercy for anyone. At the very least there was more business now. No man was more scouted than a repair man after the world had been set on fire.

That said, this was not something he wanted or needed to do. The end of a gun said otherwise.

"Just Finish this fucker off so I can go home!" Said the voice in the corridor.

After the revolution the cells had been made a skeleton of wreckage and iron. There were no cells like finger torture cells. It took an expert to fix one up properly. As much as he hated it, Rackley was the only man that fit that qualification, the only one they could find. They only needed one cell. In the opinion of his captor it was taking a bloody long time to get it done.

As David patched over the last of a crack, he called out to the man in the hall.

"Leave 'er for a couple days to get solid. I'gets stronger when it stays wet for longer this stuff so don't rush." Backing out of the little grey box, he turned and looked him dead in the face. "Other than that I think you're about done."

"Oh", sighed the other, "Thank fuck for that." Drawing his pistol, he shot Dave clear between the eyes, straying blood into the wet cement.

Things continued much the same as ever that day. Quietly the two slipped from place to place reading and watching television. In the afternoon V prepared dinner and she gave him a hand, making a small salad. The two sat on the couch and watched an old German Christmas film.

"I remember this from when I was a kid," she mumbled curling her feet up under her. V turned, it was the first time she had spoken in a while.

"Yes, It used to be a traditional thing, every year they'd play it on the BBC. Even back when you were a child."

Absentmindedly, she said:

"Did they when you were a boy?"

"I don't know." He said bluntly. At this she turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember." V was now fully focusing back on the screen. This wasn't the time for this conversation. He said no more, knowing Evey would come to her own conclusions. She knew he was in prison before the reclamation. She could put two and two together.

"Of coarse. I'm sorry"

…And there it is… she is a clever one, my Evey

…My Evey…

…my Evey…?

On screen a butler was running from end to end of a table pouring wine for guests that weren't there to appease his senile mistress. An invisible audience gigged and clapped as he took a swig for himself and continued to drunkenly fling celluloid food onto the plates, stumbling as he did so. Evey could definitely remember this.

Out of habit, the masked man stood and reached behind the couch under a small table for a box out of which he pulled a rolled blanket. Draping it over Evey, he returned to his seat as if he'd not noticed he'd moved at all. The lady found her eyes on him a moment. His head turned to meet her, tilting in inquiry.

"Thank you," said she in a strange admiring tone. Almost breathlessly? V waited for her attentions to turn away but their eyes stayed locked. "You really do so much for me," she said.

"I do what I can." She appeared to consider this for a minute, a small smile fading on her lips.

"I can't stay here forever you know," she sighed, " I can't expect you to always take care of me." He gave a small noise as a reply, a grunt, looking again at the screen as he did so. He hated the very thought. "Will you miss me when I'm gone?" V considered this.

"Where would you go?" In his shape and tone there was suddenly a mournful tinge she hadn't expected.

"Oh I don't know, somewhere up north. In the countryside. Find an old abandoned place and make it my own." He nodded. "A skill I learned from you." V allowed himself a small laugh.

"Well I'm happy you'll have taken something from this place you can really put to use." He looked solemn and sighed. "I really will miss you when you've gone." She smiled.

"You care about me," she said. He turned to look at her again.

More than you could ever know…

"I must confess, more than I ever thought I would," She could hear a smile in his words. "or could."

"I feel the same." She flashed him a brief smile before an uprise in music swelled from the television and stole her attentions away. "it's a long program isn't it?"

V said nothing in reply.

On the television the special was coming to an end as the old woman slowly rolled bed covers over the drunken butler, then scampered down the hall to attend to her invisible guests and escort them out.

"I am truly amazed you could ever find yourself caring about me. After all I've done," he spoke.

"Well, I've proven it now haven't I?" she said. V's heart leapt at the memory, but he held himself down.

"Indeed," he said concealing the sudden glee. She really cares about me. My Evey cares about me. V rolled the words over and over in his head. MY Evey CARES about ME…

On that note, Evey's mind wandered. How was she ever to cope without him there. Cooking and cleaning? Her mind accused her of relying far too much on him. But truly he meant so much more than that, she confessed. More than he may ever know.

The screen faded into black. Instantly V stood and helped her to her feet. As he headed away, she kept hold on his hand:

"V?"

"Evey?" He said taking a tentative step back towards her.

"If I left London, moved somewhere out of the way? Would you come with me?" V let out a tiny gasp, as if by accident it seemed. She did love to catch him off guard didn't she?

"If I were needed, then… I would love to." She grinned. Eventually she released him and headed past him down her own corridor.

"Goodnight V."

"Goodnight."